Jack, while pretending to leave the grounds, had kept a sly eye on Sam, and upon that individual’s disappearance, at once turned and answered the child in a voice soft and gentle, and soothing as that of dreamy Italy.
“Yous-a tink-a your-a papa was-a da here-a. What eesa da name?”
“Thorpe!” replied Dorothy, without the faintest fear or hesitation. “That is my name, too. I want to find him right away. Can you tell me where he is? Mama sent me to ask him to come and dance.”
“Yes-a da child-a. Eesa da know where eesa papa be. Eef-a youse-a be note-a fraid and will-a come wid-a me, Eesa take-a youse-a da papa,” and the sly old man looked into her eyes with such beaming kindness that at once won her confidence.
“I’m not afraid of you. I like old men. Mama says we should respect old men. But I’m in such a hurry, you know. Mama is waiting for me.”
“Well, geeve-a me youse-a da hand and Eesa take-a you straight-a da heem.”
Without the least suspicion or timidity, she instantly placed her little hand in his and the two proceeded toward the river, much faster than his supposed crippled condition would lead an older person to expect.
“Youse-a love-a da papa and da mama much-a, donn-a youse?” he continued.
“Oh, yes! Ever so much.”
“Eesa good-a girl. We’ll soon-a da fine eem,” and he added to himself, “when the horn of plenty pours its golden stream into Jack’s pocket.”